Still Wake Up Burning Through Everything
by jackxnina15
Summary: Follows the remaining team through the time between seasons 6 and 7 - mostly Tony and McGee, but not slash! Can be read as Tiva, but doesn't have to be. Kind of angsty, but we all know the happy ending is coming
1. Doubt the Curve of the Earth

**Author's Note: This story is about the time covered by Tony's narrative/flashback in the season premiere, between seasons 6 and 7. Gibbs' head is proving quite impenetrable so far, so this will alternate between Tony and McGee's POVs. It's not exactly Tiva, but can certainly be read that way...please let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS...TIVA. Enough said.**

"Good morning, Tony," McGee said, his tone hopeful. But his partner didn't even look up. McGee sighed quietly, setting his bag on his desk. _Come on, Tony. We can't take much more of this._ In the four day since Tony and Gibbs returned from Tel Aviv, Tony had barely said a non-work-related word. He strangely resembled the model employee - at work before McGee and Gibbs every day, always on task, thorough and focused except the time he spent staring at the empty desk across from his - but he wasn't _Tony._

Gibbs breezed into the bullpen, silently as usual, and McGee tried again. "Morning, boss."

He was rewarded with the the customary glance and nod. "McGee." Gibbs sat and settled his coffee on his desk, then dug into the files in front of him without comment.

_Come on, Tim. Stop being such a quivering wimp._ But about what subject does one make small talk with Gibbs? _Weather? He practically lives in his basement. Oh, sailing?...No, for all you know he's never actually finished a boat. Why are you trying so hard anyway?_ McGee couldn't remember ever thinking of conversation topics at work before. _Before...when Ziva was always kicking an eraser's ass or screwing up some idiom. When Tony was SuperGluing things to my desk and musing about Gibbs' personal life and earning headslaps. McGee tried to focus on his own cold case, but the ambient noise was somehow deafening. Tony's pen scratching, Gibbs' finger tapping absently against his coffee cup, and the hum of voices from other teams' areas - __real teams,_ McGee thought bitterly, and suddenly the bullpen was suffocating him. He nearly scrambled to gather his papers and laptop. "Uh, boss, I'll be in Abby's lab. Working on...this case. If you need me. I mean, if we get a case. I mean, this is a case...just a cold case. Not that it can't be solved. Which is what I'll be doing in -"

"Abby's lab. Heard you, McGee."

He hurried toward the elevator, suddenly feeling like all eyes were on him.

***********

McGee stormed into the lab, finding it empty. He set his papers and backpack on an unoccupied table, then after a moment's pause, kicked the chair. Hard. "Dammit. Dammit, Dammit!"

But the technique didn't work. He'd seen Tony do it many times in the last few days - just as tears began to well up in his eyes, he'd storm out of the bullpen, and when McGee worked up the courage to look for him, he'd find him pounding the shit out of a punching bag in the gym. His knuckles bled, but McGee had never seen him cry. But as much as McGee kicked the chair, throwing in a couple punches to the concrete wall for good measure, he still felt hot trails down his cheeks. _Don't be such a wuss. You have nothing to cry about. Ziva's not dead._ Slam. Smack. Crash. _Might as well be,_ the angry side of his brain argued. _Tony too._

His next hit was so hard he felt something in his hand crack. Pain shot from there to his already constricted chest, and as the physical mixed with the emotional it was too much. He barely made it to Abby's sink before he convulsed violently and emptied his stomach of the breakfast he'd barely been able to force down with the thought of another day at work. His gagging drowned out the elevator's ding, and by the time he heard the door click open it was too late to react.

"Timmy?" The alarm in Abby's voice forced his eyes to hers, but he remained leaning against the sink. "Oh, Timmy." The genuine concern was too much for him, and he slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands. Abby rushed to his side, first grabbing a water bottle from her desk. "Oh, Timmy," she repeated, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around him as he cried. Somehow she knew it was more than a stomachache. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm such a wuss, Abs," he choked out. "Everyone else lost a friend, too, but I'm the only one freaking out like this."

"You are not," she said firmly. "You think I don't freak out sometimes?"

"Tony and Gibbs..." he mumbled.

"Gibbs has a different way of dealing with things, Timmy. His freakouts occur in his basement with a bottle of bourbon and a manual sander. Tony...you're right. Tony's not freaking out at all."

"That's the problem," McGee muttered. "He's so...not Tony."

"I know. I miss him too," she said, hugging him closer. "But he'll be back, he just needs time."

"I hope he comes back soon, Abs." He rested his head on her chin. "It's so strange without him. Gibbs...I don't know how to talk to Gibbs without Tony there. Especially this pissed off, quieter-than-usual Gibbs. I don't want to make him mad...it's usually not so bad 'cause he's always just getting mad at Tony's stupid stunts, but now..."

"Believe me, he misses Ziva and Tony too. Just wait, Timmy. Everything will work out. And I'm always here when things up there get too tense."

"Thanks, Abby. I'm going to need it."

She squeezed him tighter, and he winced. "Oh no! Are you hurt?" she asked in typical Abby fashion.

"Just a little," he admitted sheepishly, holding up his left hand.

Grabbing it gently, she looked up at him. "Tim! This is broken! What happened?"

He glanced at her overturned chair. "Stress relief?"

Cradling his hand, she hugged him again. "Come on, let's go see Ducky."

**Please review! More coming soon, promise.**


	2. Pick Up the Pieces

**Kind of short, sorry. More coming though!**

_She'll be back._

It had been a week since they returned from Tel Aviv "one short," and this was the first solid thought to enter Tony's head. After a week of blurred commotion, he was so relieved to have something concrete he actually said it out loud to make sure. "She'll be back."

Tony glanced around the bullpen as if coming out of a trance, grateful no one was around to hear him talking to himself. _Come to think of it, where is everybody?_ He could barely recall seeing what was left of the team at all in the last week, though they'd doubtlessly been around. _They must think I'm a nut case. If I were them, I wouldn't wanna hang out here either._ The empty desk - again - across from his was difficult to look at. _And you're probably not helping things either, DiNozzo, sitting here staring like a zombie. Snap out of it._

_She'll be back,_ he thought again. _But is this really how you want her to find you, staring unresponsively at her desk?_ He knew he should get up, return to the world of the living, but it felt like he was moving through a pool of molasses. And then another thought occurred to him. _If there's no team for her to come back to, she'll stay over there forever. He tried to remember how Gibbs and McGee interacted during the past week, slightly taken aback when he realized he couldn't recall a word. __I must've been really out of it. Poor McGee, left to tiptoe around Gibbs unprotected. _Tony could only imagine the resulting tension.

___Where the hell did they go, anyway?_ Fighting back an unexplained dread rising in the pit of his stomach, he took one last glance at the empty desk and stood. Come on, guys. We have to hold it together till she gets back. Then everything can go back to normal. Normal. 

"Normal. If things were normal right now, where would I be?" he said out loud. _With Ziva,_ his mind shouted. _The gym, the range, Abby's lab, hell, even the mens' room. Somewhere with Ziva._ That train of thought leading down a path he couldn't afford to follow, he tried a new approach. "'Kay, where the hell are Gibbs and McGee?" _If we don't have a case, Gibbs is probably with the director._ Then he remembered, and slammed a fist on his desk. _How out of it have I been? __Scratch that, Jenny's dead. Then Gibbs...basement? Yeah, that's it._

Okay, so Gibbs was unreachable at the moment. _McGee? Hmm. Wait, no...Probie. Yeah, that's right. Have I really been calling him McGee?_ Tony thought back, unable to remember addressing the other agent at all in the last week._ Now where is he? Certainly not with Gibbs. Where does Probie go when he doesn't want to be here? He wouldn't leave, we could still get a case...it's only three o'clock. But if he's not here..._Then Tony remembered the other person in this equation. _Abby!_

Sure he'd hit upon the answer, Tony stood and glanced once more at the sterile desk across from his. _Gotta go find Probie, make sure he's okay, then we can work on Gibbs. Without Probie and Gibbs there's no team, and with no team...there's nothing for Ziva to come home to._

_Reviews = motivation to write =)_


	3. You Know What They Say About Gift Horses

"Abby, where do you want all these old test shell casings you won't throw away?" McGee called out to the lab from her inner office. _I will never understand the purpose of these._ Abby had decided it was time for some "spring cleaning," and since anything was preferable to hanging out in the squad room these days, he volunteered to help her. "I can't hear you over this music!" he yelled when he got no answer.

"She said to McPut them under the desk, McProbie," came the answer as the separating doors whisked open.

McGee stood up so fast he nearly hit his head on the low-hanging cabinet. "Tony?"

"Do you know anyone else this witty?" McGee just stared, mouth open. "Or this good-looking, come to think of it."

"Tony!" He forced himself to resist the urge to hug his partner.

"Does that surprise you for some reason, Probie-Wan?" His easy grin made McGee wonder if this was real.

"N - no, of course not. It's just...you've been so..." He was saved from finishing his stuttering train of thought by Abby's entrance.

"Tonyyy!" She threw herself at him, arms around his neck. "It's so good to have you back."

McGee noted the lack of confusion on his face. _So Tony does realize things haven't been the same around here._ "Thanks, Abbs," he said quietly. "I really am back, promise." Then his eyes flickered back to McGee, still standing dumbfounded. "Hey, Probilicious. What happened to your hand?"

McGee glanced down at the splint on his left hand._ Well, that's embarrassing._ "It's a...long story." He prayed Tony would let it drop.

Tony eyed him for a second longer, then said, "Whatever. Where's the bossman?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. Probably...boat building?"

"At three o'clock in the afternoon?"

"Well...I don't know. He hasn't exactly been keeping regular office hours lately." _In case you haven't noticed, with your whole trance thing._

"Hmm. Maybe you and I should go look into that."

"Uh, um, okay. Right now? Yeah, we should go - okay, uh, just one second." He pushed in the chair until it was almost touching the shell casings, and grabbed his backpack from by the desk.

"McGee?" Tony stopped halfway out the door. "Why is your gear by Abby's desk?"

_Shit. 'Cause the squad room's been a mausoleum the last week?_ "Well, um, I was just...see, I brought it down here 'cause...in case I needed...my knife. You know, rule number nine..."

Wordlessly, Tony turned and walked to the elevator, leaving McGee to scurry to catch up. He felt Tony's gaze on him as he slipped through the closing doors. Just as the silent stare was starting to make him uncomfortable, Tony spoke, quietly. "Move your stuff back upstairs, 'kay Probie?" He sounded determined, almost regretful. "We're going to get Gibbs, and we're all going to go to the squad room and wait. For a case. While working on cold cases, just like we're supposed to."

"Of course, Tony." _I don't know why, but Tony's back._ And McGee fought to keep a stupid grin off his face.


	4. Innocence

**Yay, new chapter! This one's a little longer!**

"Case closed," Tony declared, satisfied, as he tossed the completed report on Gibbs' empty desk.

"Lucky," McGee grumbled. "Retrieving all this data is going to take at least another couple hours." The team leader had gotten in a disagreement with his computer in the middle of the case, causing not only the file he was accessing, but the profiles of the battleship's entire crew, to be lost.

"Oh, cheer up, McTekkie. It's only 8 o'clock, I'll keep you company for a while." He grinned mischievously and leaned back in his chair.

"Just what I wanted," McGee groaned. "To hear all about your latest dates and female acquaintances."

_Great. Okay, DiNozzo, come up with something__._ Faking a smirk, he stretched and settled his arms behind his head. "Now that you mention it...You should see the barista at the coffee shop I just switched to. Swedish or Norwegian, I think. Legs a mile long, and that accent-"

_Ouch._ Even his made-up fantasy woman just _had_ to have the accent. _Although mixing up V's and W's could never compare with that precisely enunciated, but occasionally nonsensical..._he actually winced at this train of thought, but luckily McGee was too wrapped up in his computer to notice.

"Do you even _drink_ coffee?" he asked absently. "Or do you just carry that cup around for looks?"

"Yes, I drink it!" Tony replied, indignant, then grinned. "But are you admitting it adds to my appeal?"

"Whatever you want to think, Tony."

_Doing good, DiNozzo. Think normal. Keep pretending everything is how it was, and eventually she'll come back and we can go back to normal._ The word had become his mantra, his motivation to get up in the morning and paste a cocky smile on his face. "Normal," because "Ziva" was too painful. But every time he thought the word, it was her that ran through his mind. _Normal is mixed-up idioms and narrowly missed traffic accidents and paperclip murders. Of course, Geek-speak and Gibbs-slaps are important too...so hold it together._

Watching McGee type, he noticed the splint on his left hand had been replaced with a less restrictive wrap. _What the hell did__ he do to that hand?_ Tony hadn't missed the brush-off he recieved when he asked two weeks ago. "Hey, Probie." He waited until McGee looked up. "What _did_ you do to that hand?"

McGee immediately ducked his head, too quick for Tony to interpret the expression that flashed across his face. "I told you, Tony. It's a long story."

"We've got time. Or at least, I do, you've still got a report to finish," he teased, but received no comeback. "Come on, Probes. No secrets on the team." _That never works out well._ "Spill it."

McGee sighed, and pretended to busy himself on the computer as he mumbled, "Ipushawal."

"Speak up, McMumble!"

He jerked his head up and looked Tony straight in the eye. "I punched a wall, okay? Happy now?"

"You punched..." Tony leaned back in his chair, understanding slowly dawning. He'd punched a few walls himself in his lifetime. _Oh God. Please, not__..._"When?" His voice was quiet, almost dangerous.

"A while ago. It's not important." Back to mumbling.

_You did this, DiNozzo._ He gazed at the junior agent's wrapped hand, then his downcast eyes._ Way to go. You really thought you could just snap out of your little trance and everything would be okay? Back to "normal" again? Sexist jokes and variations of "Probie" aren't going to fix this. Nothing you do will._ Tony nearly flew out of his chair as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Slamming the chair back under his desk, he took off without a word.

"Tony..." came McGee's uncertain voice behind him, but he wouldn't turn around. "Tony. Wait."

Ignoring him, Tony hit the stairwell door hard and stormed down the flights to the locker rooms.

*****************

Ten minutes later, Tony was already breathing hard as he attacked a punching bag in the corner of the gym. His head pounded from a combination of blasted music and restrained tears. _Think this is how he felt, DiNozzo?_ He hit harder at the thought. _Probably just couldn't take it anymore, just like you. That innocent, eager-to-please little Probie who would never hurt a fly? This is what you did to him._ He turned his Ipod to maximum volume, just hoping to shut out the accusatory voice in his head for a few minutes. _You deserve it._

He didn't know how much time passed, but his already scabbed knuckles were raw and bleeding when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. McGee slipped through the gym's door, and the look of near-anguish on his face was exactly what Tony was trying to escape. _Still screwing with him, you idiot. Look what you've done._ He turned his back to the younger man and hit harder, praying he'd eventually go away. _Go to Abby, she won't do this to you. Or Gibbs. Or basically anyone but me._

Just as his punches stopped being enough to hold the tears at bay, he felt hands close around his wrists. Startled, he spun and tried to reverse the move on his assailant, but McGee's grip was firm. "Let go of me," he ground out, voice low and even, desperate to get away before his watering eyes spilled over. "Get out of here."

"No," McGee said quietly, tugging Tony from the bag and planting his back against a wall.

"Leave, Probie." _Please, please just go. I don't want you to be here now._

"I'm not leaving, Tony."

His voice was firm and gentle and enough to send tears rolling down Tony's face. He tried to turn his head and hide them, but his shaking shoulders soon made it futile. So for the first time since his return from Israel, he cried, so hard he thought he would choke or throw up. Just like battling the punching bag, he cried with everything he had. And through his jerking breaths, he realized that next to him McGee was shaking with silent sobs of his own.

The two men sat in the deserted gym side by side until finally Tony began to catch his breath. He sniffled, then thought, _You sound like a little girl._

_Oh well._ He couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried like this, and now he realized this was the release he was looking for all those nights in the gym. And it had taken McGee, of all people, to trigger it by confronting him at his weakest. _Little Probie's all grown up._ But at what cost?

"Probie," he said, glancing at the floor by his feet. He felt his partner (_partner?)_ turn toward him, but still he paused. "Tim. I'm sorry. And thank you." He brushed McGee's arm with his own, halfway between a handshake and a hug, as he got up. Then he walked ever so slowly to the locker room, utterly exhausted but finally relieved.

**I'm a big fan of the new Tony/McGee friendship too =) this is not meant in a slashy way at all...**


End file.
